


ar lan y mor

by meowcosm



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Seteth (Fire Emblem), F/M, Hand Jobs, Intimacy, Outdoor Sex, Swimsuits, Top My Unit | Byleth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:49:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27157534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meowcosm/pseuds/meowcosm
Summary: Byleth and Seteth find themselves alone together.For Kinktober 2020.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Seteth
Comments: 11
Kudos: 25
Collections: kinktober 2020





	ar lan y mor

**Author's Note:**

> first time writing het setleth and seteth is still bottoming

Underneath the strange shapes inscribed into the cave walls, Byleth _glows_. 

Seteth’s stomach has already dropped. He’s still half-drenched in the saltwater that’s seeping into the cove; knee deep, firmly planted in the water-logged sand underneath his feet. He hasn’t- _not yet_ \- climbed out, beached himself on the wave-slick slate formations that provide some shelter from the cove they’ve half-voluntarily floated into. 

Byleth has. She’s splayed out in front of Seteth like a beauty from an ancient painting, legs arched, crossed, so provocatively that if she _were_ truly a piece of art, Seteth knows the names and faces of dozens of elements in the church who might destroy her in the name of _decency_. 

He spits saltwater from his mouth; in his heart, it’s directed at them. His own sins rankle in his chest, but Byleth is raising her arm towards him, cupping his cheek- _wanting_ him, erasing his doubts. He stirs, and clambers from the warm water, finding purchase adjacent to his lover. 

Her eyelids flicker provocatively, gazing firmly at Seteth. Droplets of water cling tight to him, slipping down the arches and concaves of his chest in ribbons when they fall from his shoulder. Waterlogged hair, slicked back by the force of the waves, exposes the tapered points of his ears, and Byleth catches glimpses of his fangs each time his lips part to breathe. 

It’s natural, the way she pulls him closer, hindquarters scraping against the water-carved stone. Yet it still stuns him when Byleth wordlessly slips her hand beneath his brief coverings, loose and enchanted to be waterproof. He’s wordless- incoherent- as Byleth cups his shaft delicately, skimming it with the blunt touch of salt-scraped fingertips, teasing against his balls with the back of her knuckles. His whimpers, taut and surprised, echo endlessly in the cave. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Byleth catches sight of the runes glowing, as bright a blue as the clearest summer sky. But her attention fixes on Seteth, being made so malleable underneath her touch, _groaning_ as her fingers wrap tighter around him, bringing him closer. He’s erect- painfully so- writhing each time Byleth’s palm grinds against the root of his shaft. 

“You should look at me.” Byleth murmurs, quiet enough to barely echo within the confines of the cove. 

Seteth’s eyes are half-lidded with pleasure, buckling under the weight of his arousal. He obliges, nevertheless, and meets Byleth’s gaze to find her other hand occupied behind her own back, undoing the tight knot he’d created to hold her modesty in place. 

“You’re undressing…?” Seteth ventures, as if he hasn’t already seen the evidence of the answer right in front of him. 

The loose red fabric cupping Byleth’s breasts slips away; falling discarded onto the twilight-black rock flats beneath them- dangerously close to where it might be carried away by even the laziest of waves.

“We’re-” Seteth begins, only to be cut off by Byleth once more caressing his cock. 

“Alone. Let me take care of you.”

Seteth grunts- but he doesn’t refuse. In the absence of objection, Byleth sidles as close to him as she can, almost close enough for his head to rest across her breasts. Her grip becomes firmer, tighter, more eager- and Seteth whimpers. Despite the view, his eyes shutter, overwhelmed by the sight of Byleth in front of him. He rolls onto his back and surrenders- willingly- to being fussed over by Byleth, whose unoccupied hand is quickly engaged in the business of kneading at his pecs and pressing his nipples between her fingers. His body convulses each time she does, a fundamental disruption of his control that Seteth does nothing to counteract, lest he be further toyed with. 

Despite the seclusion of their retreat, the nonetheless-public nature of their embrace is a fact that plays unerringly in Seteth’s mind. He considers, briefly, the consequences should they be found engaging in such play, and shame sinks to his gut when the prospect only arouses him further. It is only the unlikeliness of such an event that means Seteth does not rise from where he lies, insisting on their departure.

He lets Byleth continue, instead. She works at him, drinking in every plaintive cry that shudders within the confines of the cove; almost lying against his chest, now. He maintains his composure well-enough to kiss her, open-mouthed and eager, Byleth relentless and possessive as she presses deeper and firmer against him. It’s almost enough to push him down against the stone- Seteth counts his blessings that it’s smooth and yielding, hardly the kind that might scrape his back raw. Her lips are chapped and rough, sea-taste clinging firmly, overwhelming Seteth’s senses each time he slips away from the pleasure short-circuiting him long enough to take in everything that’s being done to him, moaning as his voice returns for the few brief seconds he’s allowed its use. With few words able to encapsulate the feeling, Seteth doesn’t bother to speak when the touch of rough mercenary palms overwhelms him; he bucks into the curl of her grip and forgets, briefly, how to speak, how to be anything but an object that exists to be toyed with mercilessly. 

It’s when Byleth slips a finger into his hole that Seteth _groans_ , losing sight and possession of all his faculties. The friction inside of him is almost _cruel_ , taking brutal shape inside the pit of his stomach, and he restrains just barely a yelp sure to echo loudly against every arch of the walls surrounding him. It’s hardly the first time Byleth has done this to him- he knows to maintain some composure, even if he’s crumbling inside of himself, rapidly _eaten_ by Byleth’s enthusiasm. Repetitive strokes on his cock and rough insertion are, however, suddenly very much for Seteth. Particularly when Byleth slips another finger in, splitting him, _parting him_ and rubbing at flesh so untouched and sensitive- 

he comes, in the throes of a desperate release, across his stomach, as the runes above both of them flash a brilliant blue.

**Author's Note:**

> @meowcosm on twt for Content That Definitely Exists
> 
> comments/kudos are appreciated always!!


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